chapter Twenty-six
I MANAGED TO stay faithful…through Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year, even seeing Jet at the occasional concert, including one of ours at which he wasn’t playing. I guess he was trying to gauge the seriousness of my relationship with Ethan.
Well, it was serious, even though it was heated and stormy. Ethan was often moody, and he continued indulging in various substances. He managed to maintain from day to day, but there would be days he’d just lie on the couch, seeming to contemplate the meaning of life, and I knew he was just baked out of his gourd. I took Brad’s advice and didn’t lecture Ethan about it, much as I’d wanted to.
I was in denial, though, if I’d thought he was staying faithful to me. The fact that he never had a condom on him should have been my first clue, but it wasn’t. That he couldn’t be found frequently should have been another. There were no undeniable signs—no times he’d be on the phone and push me away or hang up suddenly, no weird hickies on his neck, no girls getting in my face to challenge me. There was just the tiny doubt in my mind that I easily pushed aside.
But at a particular show we were playing in January, I could deny it no longer…not that I had a choice. Ethan was trashed—he’d been drinking, that much I knew, but he’d taken something else and was in one of his near-comatose states, one of the ones that made me nervous for his well-being. He’d stumbled offstage and nearly passed out, but Brad and Nick helped him up and out. When I went to the van to check on him, though, he was gone. And when I asked Nick about it, he just shrugged his shoulders.
I made my way back through to the front of the house. The next band hadn’t started yet, and I started asking people I knew if they’d seen Ethan. I was getting worried. What happened if he passed out somewhere and really did go into a coma, or what if he lost consciousness and choked on his own vomit? I’d read too many stories over the years of musicians killing themselves with their drugs, and if I could help it, Ethan was not going to be one of them.
I went backstage again near the bathroom area. There were some musicians hanging around talking, guys I’d met multiple times before. I asked them if they’d seen Ethan. I think by then most of them knew we were a couple. All the guys said no…except one. He didn’t say anything but kept looking at the bathroom door.
The backstage bathroom was a unisex one, a tiny, cramped space with just a toilet, a small sink, a mirror, and paper towel holder. Even the trashcan was small. I walked over to it and knocked on the door. I didn’t want to make Ethan uncomfortable or make him feel like I was invading his privacy, but I had to know he was okay.
There was no answer, so I knocked again. I heard a moan, and it sounded like Ethan, and I just assumed the worst—that he was lying in a pool of vomit, dying.
I tested the doorknob, grateful it wasn’t locked, or I’d have to beg someone to help me knock it down. The room was so tight, I almost accidentally rammed the doorknob into the redhead’s skull. Yep, that’s right. Ethan was up against the wall with a skinny thing on her knees, his dick in her mouth. And not only did I see it, I know a lot of the guys behind me saw it too, and I’m sure a good many of them were cheering him on in silence.
I felt…so many things. The first was anger. I was angry that I’d been worried when I really hadn’t needed to. And then I was embarrassed…which I wouldn’t have been (at least as much) if other people hadn’t been around. Last, though, I felt betrayed. Alone. Unloved. This man had sworn his love to me. No, he’d never promised fidelity nor had we even discussed it. I’d just kind of taken it for granted. I’d given him my virginity, for heaven’s sake. The least he could do would be to tell me he planned on drinking from other wells.
I didn’t say anything. I just closed the door and backed away. Yeah, he saw me but all he did was roll his eyes.
I just went to the van and cried. Hours later, the guys joined me—long after the tears had stopped—and Brad asked if everything was okay. They’d been looking for me, and Brad was worried. I shrugged and told him I was sorry.
Nothing from Ethan. Nothing.
So I decided it was over. But he had some stupid hold over me. The next day he begged for my forgiveness and told me he loved me. He called me his muse, for God’s sake, something he hadn’t called me in a long time. His eyes even welled up with tears when he said it was the drugs—they impaired his judgment. He couldn’t quit them, though, and that’s when he also said he couldn’t quit me.
I considered it for a day or so. Did I really want to send him the message that it was okay to shit all over me?
I loved him, though, and poison or not, I couldn’t turn him away.
He tried to be better. For the next month, he’d eased off on the drugs and been close to my side, but I was stupid to think he would change. I believed it, though, with everything in me. It would take more than a little indiscretion to change my mind.
* * *
My eyes were closed. Oh…that felt nice, so tantalizing. A warm mouth on my nipple, my areola, the tongue teasing its tip. And somehow it was all magnified, more intense than usual. Oh, God. And I heard hard and heavy music in the background…maybe Suicide Silence. I couldn’t quite tell.
I felt fuzzy, surreal, as it continued. I moaned in pleasure and felt my back arch upwards toward the source of pleasure. Then I felt a tongue trace a trail down my cleavage as I heard Ethan’s voice in my ear.
Wait. Something wasn’t right.
I opened my eyes. The light was dim. There were some candles lit across the room, and I tried to get my bearings, but I was having a hard time focusing. Nothing seemed real. But in the shadows, I could see a young woman with short blonde hair leaning over me, looking up at me from my breasts. Ethan was closer, right by my face, talking in my ear, but I couldn’t make out his words.
My heart was pounding in my chest and I sat up. “Stop.” My voice came out weaker than I’d intended, but I couldn’t get my bearings. Nothing was as it should have been. I didn’t know where I was or how the hell I’d gotten here.
The blonde placed her hand on my breast and kissed my shoulder. “Oh, don’t leave.”
“Val…”
This time with more force. “Stop.” My mouth felt like terrycloth, my eyes like sandpaper. I blinked a few times, trying to focus, and then decided to hell with it. I groped my way to the edge of the bed and got up, still feeling the girl’s hand on my shoulder. Once on my feet, I stumbled toward the door. I placed my hand on the cool doorknob and looked behind me to see Ethan and the blonde in an embrace, their tongues clashing. They weren’t missing me much.
I twisted the doorknob, feeling the beat of the music inside me. It still didn’t feel quite real, and I thought to myself, I know this goddamned song, but I couldn’t figure it out. Maybe if I could get into some real light, maybe if I could figure out where the f*ck I was, maybe…
So I opened the door and, just as I’d suspected, I was hard hit with light and sound. It was overwhelming. The light…so bright, so overpowering. And the sound—like a concert in my soul. I couldn’t process it all…it was way too much.
But then my brain forced itself to work, and the edges of my reality became clearer. I was in the hallway of my apartment facing the kitchen. And the music was coming from beyond there, maybe the living room. Maybe from the new sweet stereo Brad’s mom had bought him for Christmas. The kitchen was full of people, loud, boisterous, laughing happy people, none of whom seemed familiar to me in the least. And they were all staring at me. This must have been a bad dream.
It was then that I realized I was completely topless. No wonder they were staring at me. Especially the guys. And this was real…right?
F*ck.
Still, it didn’t feel completely real. But I wrapped my arm over my breasts just the same.
That’s when Brad appeared. He looked concerned, and he rushed to my side. “Val? You okay?”
I’m sure I looked like an idiot, just staring at him. Was I okay? I didn’t know. But he wrapped his arm around me and led me to my room.
He sat me on my bed and then started looking around my room. He found the robe I hung on the closet doorknob and brought it over, wrapping it over my shoulders. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” That was my first response, but tears started falling down my cheeks. I didn’t know why. But then it all came back to me as Brad pulled me into his chest, just letting me cry.
It was mid-March, and we’d just finished our biggest show ever. The audience was huge and on fire, and we’d made the most money we ever had. I started to think I could start to consider quitting my job. There were two other bands playing that night—one that we’d played with multiple times (and, truth be told, probably the one that had really drawn in the crowd)—and another that we’d never played with before. Brad was happier than I’d seen him in a long time. In fact, he was ecstatic, and I could see in his eyes what I felt deep inside.
He knew I didn’t have to work the next day, and neither did he, so he invited both bands and their guests to our place for a party.
We’d never had a party at our place before, but we knew it was acceptable in our building. We’d had to try to sleep through parties on our floor before. Brad had just turned twenty-one, so I suspected it was also a reason for him to make his first liquor store run.
Back at the apartment, people started filling in fast. Brad set up a bar of sorts on the kitchen counter, along with plastic cups and a bag of ice in the sink. Ethan was drinking and had taken something to go with it. He was on the couch, talking with a girl with short blonde hair. He hadn’t cozied up with her, but I figured it was inevitable. I’d have to go over there and insert myself at some point, but first Brad had requested my presence in the kitchen.
“I know you’re not comfortable drinking, Val, but I bought this with you in mind.”
“What?”
“Butterscotch schnapps.”
“Why for me?”
“It’s smooth. I thought you might want to get a little buzz on. You helped propel us to where we are now.”
I smiled. “Why do you want me trashed?”
“I don’t. I just want you to feel good…just a little. You deserve it.”
I nodded my head. “Okay.”
So we did a shot together. Brrr. It warmed a trail down to my tummy but made me shiver. “How’s that feel?”
“Pretty good.”
“Okay. Just one more. As tiny as you are, I don’t dare let you drink more than that.”
Tiny? That almost made me laugh, but he was right—I’d become thin…not scary thin, but it was definitely different from when he’d first met me. So I did a second shot with him. I started to feel a little relaxed but just figured that was the power of suggestion.
In my ear, he said, “Now…half an hour from now, you don’t feel like you’ve got a buzz on, come back. I’ll hook you up.” He hugged me then, a warm embrace, and I hadn’t fully expected it. Yes, Brad and I were close, and it wasn’t the first time he’d hugged me, but I wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from. “In the meantime, though…” He grabbed one of the clear plastic cups he’d bought for the occasion. He put a handful of ice inside and poured water in it. Then he handed it to me. “Nurse this.”
I grinned at him. “Thanks, Brad.” I had a mission, though, and that was to make sure Ethan’s cheating ass was behaving itself. I couldn’t trust him anymore. “See you in a while.”
I made my way through the bodies toward the couch. Sure enough, Blondie was closer to Ethan, her hand on his thigh. Damn it. That was my man. I was tired of girls staking their claim when he was not available, and I was tired of him taking them all up on their offers.
So I walked straight over to him and sat on the other side of him. “Hey, babe. Glad you could join us.”
Us? That was a great way to piss me off. But he just grabbed me around the back of my neck and pulled me into an erotic kiss. Jesus. It felt like he was going to f*ck me right there on the couch.
Typical Ethan. But I didn’t stop him because it was sending a message to the little skank trying to steal my man.
His tongue didn’t stop. He thrust inside me with aggression more than once until I felt a little spark, but then he stopped. “How you feelin’, babe?”
I tried not to look sad. “All right.”
The girl leaned over Ethan, placing her hand on my thigh instead of Ethan’s. Well, maybe she was just a handsy individual. I took a gulp of my water. Ethan said, “Kandy really likes the band.”
The girl named Kandy purred. “Oh, I really loved you. You are so sexy onstage.”
Was she talking to me? I took another gulp of water, feeling nervous again. What the hell was Ethan up to? I managed to squeak out, “Thanks.”
And that’s when it hit me. My vision started to get black and fuzzy around the edges and things started to feel…not quite real. My grip on what was going on was loosening. I blinked a couple of times and took another sip. “You okay?” Ethan asked.
“Um…maybe.” Whoa. If this is what alcohol did, I’d have to avoid it or drink less. But I’d drunk it before, just not a couple of straight shots. This was hitting me harder and faster. Kandy snaked her hand around behind Ethan’s shoulder and started playing with my hair. Okay…that was overly friendly. She was starting to creep me out a little, but nothing seemed real.
I looked over at the poster-sized print of the Eiffel Tower I’d bought last fall to decorate in our Spartan living room. I kept staring at it as time seemed to slow to a crawl. It appeared to hover a foot away from the wall. And then my eyes were glued to it, fascinated. How was that happening? It was just hovering there, as though magnetically propelled away from the wall. And that was the last thing I remembered.
But sitting there on the edge of my bed, Brad’s arms around me, the tears continuing to fall, more came to me. Ethan and the blonde named Kandy helping me walk across the living room. Then lying on the bed clueless. Then drifting off because it was the easiest way to cope with the perceptual overload.
“Brad, what the hell kind of proof is that schnapps?” I finally asked.
“What? Why?”
I just confessed. I told him what I’d felt, what I’d seen, and I saw the look on his face as he slowly grew angrier and angrier. Brad asked, “What’d Ethan give you?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” He stood up. “You okay here by yourself?”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Find out what the f*ck he slipped you.”
“He didn’t…” But I stopped there, because Brad was right. Nothing felt real, like it should be. Something wasn’t right.
He didn’t wait for an answer, instead standing up. He was more pissed than I’d ever seen him. He opened my bedroom door and stormed down the hall to the other bedroom. All I could think was No! But I just followed him, the edges of my reality still black and fuzzy, like dark spider webs.
Brad didn’t knock. He just shoved the door open. That was a lovely sight. Ethan had her on all fours, and he was on his knees behind her, f*cking her doggy style. He still had his shirt on, and he was holding a bottle of something. He seemed even hazier than I was, hands clinging to the robe draped over my shoulders.
Ethan stopped but didn’t pull out. Kandy was pleading with him. “F*ck me. God, why won’t you just f*ck me?”
Ethan just looked at Brad. Brad asked, “What the f*ck did you give her, Ethan?” Ethan’s eyebrows were raised, but he was having a hard time finding an answer. Brad leaned over, and his voice was dangerously low. I could barely hear him over the music. “Goddammit, answer me, man, or I’ll beat it out of you.”
Kandy looked up then and acted like she was going to cry. But then she started laughing. “She’s tripping. Don’t you feel great, sweetie?”
I couldn’t focus on her, and she seemed like a dream.
Brad asked, “Acid?”
Ethan let out a breath but didn’t change position. “I guess.”
“Yeah. Now would you please either get out of here or help him f*ck me?”
Brad gritted his teeth and then asked, “What the f*ck is wrong with you, Ethan?” When Ethan didn’t answer, he said, “I should beat you anyway, just on general principle.”
Ethan took his hand off Kandy’s hips and held it and the one still holding the bottle out to his sides as if to tell Brad to go for it. I was pretty out of it, but I was starting to feel infuriated…full of anger not only because Ethan didn’t give a shit but also because he had the nerve to not stop screwing that girl in front of me. And that realization was all it took for me to lose it.
Before I could even stop it, my right hand was out of the robe and my finger was pointing at my boyfriend. “We are over, Ethan Richards.”
“Babe—”
“Go f*ck yourself.”
I turned around with what little dignity I could muster, pulling the robe back up and over my naked torso, and left the room. And the tears were falling again. Brad didn’t care about his party anymore. He just held me until the tears stopped, and I’d become sleepy. Then he laid my head on my pillow. “You gonna be okay tonight?”
I tried to smile. I really did. It was just so damned hard. “Yeah…”
He squinted his eyes. “Talk to me.”
I took a deep breath. “I feel so weird. This is scary.” And it was. I still felt like I wasn’t in my own body. What if I died? My parents would find out I’d been drinking…and that an entire crowd of people had seen my naked boobs. It was horrifying.
That was when Brad stretched out next to me and just held me in his arms until I fell asleep. And I didn’t think he’d stayed there all night, but he was there when I woke up the next morning.
I didn’t even want to see Ethan, let alone interact with him. I was wishing I’d had to work. I considered getting out of the house, but I’d eventually have to return, so I shut myself in my room and just wrote and did stuff on my computer—catching up on emails and that kind of thing. But sometime in the afternoon, he decided to knock on my door anyway. He caught me off guard because I hadn’t heard him up at all, hadn’t heard the stupid blonde girl with him. In fact, the apartment was eerily quiet.
I should have asked who was at my door, but instead I said, “Come in.” When I saw Ethan’s puppy dog face, I said, “Oh, not you. Get out.”
“Val, just hear me out.”
“No. You had your chance. Get the f*ck out.”
“Val…”
“Go.”
He turned around, his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t open the door. He just stood there. And then he said, “I thought it was what you wanted.”
Oh…I just had to ask. “What? What was what I wanted?”
“You said it. You said you wanted to be with both of us last night.”
I took a deep breath. “What do you mean?”
“Kandy propositioned you…us…and you said yeah.”
I had? I’d wanted to have sex with Ethan and that girl? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. I shook my head. “So…it was my idea?”
“No. But you agreed to it. Val…babe…I wouldn’t have done it if you’d said you didn’t want to.”
“Bullshit.”
“No. I mean it. I wouldn’t have.” He got brave and moved closer to the bed. “I just thought you wanted to have fun.”
I clenched my jaw and scrutinized him. “So then…why were you f*cking her after I left?”
“Christ, Val…I was f*cked up.”
“And what the hell did you give me?”
“I swear—I didn’t give you anything. Kandy gave me a hit, and I think she slipped some in your drink when you were kissing me.”
“A hit?”
“LSD.”
I considered it, and when he sat on the edge of the bed, I let him take me in his arms and hold me close. And he comforted me as the tears began to fall.
And thus began chapter three of our f*cked up relationship.
* * *
Spring is a time of renewal, and Ethan treated me better than he ever had before. He was loving, sweet, and attentive. Did Brad have something to do with that? I wasn’t sure, but I suspected, only because I caught my friend giving Ethan looks once in a while…looks not meant for my eyes.
But Ethan opened up more to me than he ever had before, and—in spite of my tiny twin bed—he started spending the night with me once in a while. One night after making love, he was holding me closely in spoon fashion, and he said, “I do love you, Val. It’s hard to admit, but there it is. I love you.”
He’d said it before, and maybe it hadn’t meant much to him because all the other times he’d said it, he’d been under the influence of something. This time he was as sober as could be. I rolled over and kissed him, just a soft, gentle kiss, but I wanted to communicate to him that those words meant a lot to me. I touched his cheek. “You know I love you too, right?”
He smiled. “Yeah.” He stroked my hair, but his eyes got a faraway look. “Everyone thinks love is so great, and I guess it is sometimes. But it hurts too. I mean…just look at my mom.”
The last time I’d seen his mother, she was happy and in love, so I had no idea what the f*ck Ethan was talking about. She was still with Jason, a man who appeared to love her back and only wanted the best for her. So I just said, “What about her?”
“My dad…he abused her for a long time, and she just took it. She laid down and took it. Over and over. Love isn’t a good thing, Val, no matter what the f*ckers tell you. It makes you vulnerable and weak.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“No, but it is. Just look at me. I’m so f*cked up, it’s not even funny. But I love you so much, Val, I’d do anything for you. Anything. I’d even take a bullet for you. And that’s f*cked up.”
I tried not to get judgmental on his ass, but his thinking was messed up. “It doesn’t have to be, Ethan. You still have your values and your own good sense. If I asked you to kill someone just because you loved me, would you?”
He just looked at me, and his eyes scared me. He would. And, yeah, that was f*cked up. So I quit talking. Instead, I rested my head against his chest, one of my favorite things in the world to do, and rubbed the smooth skin on his pec. “Val, you and me…we come from different worlds. I’d bet you never had to wonder if you were gonna get breakfast after not having dinner the night before or how the hell you were gonna hide the big bruise on your arm so your teachers wouldn’t see it. You didn’t have to dread the f*ck out of coming home one night ‘cause you got another D in class…and the very person who made sure you couldn’t study the week before was the reason you got the goddamned D in the first place.”
He was right. I might have complained about being sexually repressed, but my parents had been loving, kind people who had wanted the best for me. I’d never known starvation, neglect, or abuse, some things Ethan had apparently survived. But these were the kinds of things he rarely talked about. So I just nodded my head slightly, but I didn’t want to say a word. After a few seconds, he said, “I’ll bet you never had to see your mom getting the beating of her life, just laying helpless on the kitchen floor, while you had to watch…and just listen to her begging that he wouldn’t touch me. Jesus…you’re little, but you try. You grab him around the knees and cry and beg, but he just swats you away like a fly. Like you’re nothing. And you watch while he just unleashes on her. Her eye gets so swollen she can’t see through it…it’s black and purple and so ugly, you don’t even want to look at her. It makes her look…ugly, so ugly. But at least it blocked out the scared animal look in her eyes.
“And I’ll bet you never had to hear that the only reason why they ever got married in the first place was ‘cause the stupid cunt let herself get pregnant. And so that makes you the most worthless little stubborn sperm alive.”
He was quiet for a while before he resumed. “But…one day he left her for dead. She was on the concrete floor in the garage…blood everywhere. I called 911 first, then my grandpa, and Burt was never to be seen again. I find that f*cker, though…he’s dead.” He whispered, but I heard him say, “And I’m comin’.”
What should I say? What could I say? Anything would sound lame at that point. He was right. I’d never seen or felt any of those things. And, knowing what little I did from basic psychology courses in high school and college, I supposed I should count myself lucky that he didn’t think beating women was normal. What the hell kind of relationship would we have had then?
But I felt like I had to say something. I couldn’t just say nothing. I wanted him to feel like he could talk to me and that I was there for him. I stroked his chest again and said, “I will never hurt you, Ethan.”
Then he snorted. Actually snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause women are innocent, right?” I took in a breath, but I didn’t want to look in his eyes. I knew the look that would be in them—that distant, angry, mean look, the one his face reverted to when he wasn’t trying.
“I didn’t say all women, Ethan. But I will never hurt you.”
He was quiet. I was too. He was in a dark place, a place I couldn’t save him from. I knew that already. He was too far away. Only Ethan could choose to save himself. And he had to reason it through without me. So I decided I’d be there, but I wasn’t going to say another word. “Heidi…she was a hot little thing. She liked to wear these short skirts, and she’d drop her pencil in front of me and bend over to pick it up, just so I could see how her underwear hardly covered anything. She didn’t have a reputation as a bad girl. I know. I would have known, because…we dated. For a long time. I found out later how much she liked older guys. Lots older guys. Teachers, coaches, some guy at the bank. But she just had to make a move on Brad. I hadn’t said a word.
“She started sleeping around on me…but she stayed with me, still trying to get to Brad. She knew my weakness, and…I guess she was right. As long as you love somebody, why should you let it bother you if they’re with someone else? But Brad…that was like a punch in the gut.”
Did he not see how he was doing to me what this girl had done to him? I stayed quiet, hoping he would come to that same conclusion himself. But he didn’t say anything else, not a word, and I fell asleep wondering if he would ever see that he had become that which he hated. In the back of my mind, though, I also wondered how long I would be able to hold on, to fight to keep him…to fight to keep on loving him.